Free online greeting card maker or poetry art generator. Create free custom printable greeting cards or art from photos and text online. Use PoetrySoup's free online software to make greeting cards from poems, quotes, or your own words. Generate memes, cards, or poetry art for any occasion; weddings, anniversaries, holidays, etc (See examples here). Make a card to show your loved one how special they are to you. Once you make a card, you can email it, download it, or share it with others on your favorite social network site like Facebook. Also, you can create shareable and downloadable cards from poetry on PoetrySoup. Use our poetry search engine to find the perfect poem, and then click the camera icon to create the card or art.
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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Listen up, this is a showcase where words swing as a funky drum beat high on Bop and Swing/ hip talk spoken into a full club room of party goers, high on life drinks and weed/ We talk in half notes and blue notes, cool and defiant, loud and fine, the spoken word giants talkin’ bout Ice rides, and why are Americans bein’ arrested and killed so Trump can have his day/ We be cookin’ up phrases hotter than Tower of Power’s horn section at midnight at the Apollo/ We ride the tempo that never disappoints, tough times tucked into the groove/a melody of grit and glow, where every syllable moves/Monk in the corner, keys glowing like streetlamps on a rainy night/ His zigzag rhythm teaches us to hear the truth just right/ This is a new thing, a blue thing, the shape of jazz to come in the air/a blueprint of sing speak improv words with no fear of corrupt politicians rigging our voter elections/ man, power to the people and down with the evil goons in our politics today/ always speakin’ out was Ornette Coleman, with his avant-garde horn soul to soul playin’ into a new terrain that tore the jazz sky apart/Eric Dolphy, Don Cherry, Archie Shepp—names that make time cry with their bold jazz manifesto playin’ in blocks of new bar structures, and way out chordal jazz sounds. Man, these cats be flyin’ way high on the new thing that they be puttin’ down/ The universe be jazzin’ with zounds of acid jazz, crashing galaxies in a smile, face to face with the solar wind chorus, where the wild and free harmonies pile high the SUN RA way? And where it’s at—the last-minute rush of the jazz workshop’s glow/ Village Gate, where echoes of Lee Morgan still steal the show, Lee’s horn slicing through smoke and memory, like a red comet in bloom, his Sidewinder’s horn of rhythm and hard bop folds into the night of day/It’s out there, it’s always been out there, a pulse you can hear if you listen/a language that refuses to stay still, always insisting, So hear this: the talk isn’t merely a sound, it’s a living parade, a map drawn in jazzy blue notes, where every street corner is a new jazz note played/Keep your ears ready, your feet on the floor/ dig this, man, jazz’s is a living scripture, and we’re only asking for more."
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